Till Death Do Us Part
by Dustal Gray
Summary: A re-telling of the movie P2 through Thomas's eyes.


8/29/10

...

Angela...

I want you more when you're angry...but I love you more when you smile...

...

The cool, polished tile- riddled with invisible dog-hair from Rocky- did not touch her warm, soft skin: When I took her from the P2 level of the parking garage, she was carried as a bride to the security office, her confused, unconsience moans sending yearning shudders down my spine.

I wanted her more than ever at that moment.

I have been wanting her ever since she got the job at the building; I first watched her with curiosity- and sort of a crush- as I watched her go through her daily life; personal calls to her family, or business calls to up the sales- but it quickly became curiousity, and concern; she was always alone, always distent. She never let anyone in to her life- she always had this...barrier...between herself and other men. It was as if she was afraid of love.

But I have always loved her...I only wanted her to understand...

...

Tears burn in my eyes- eye- but I cant stop re-playing the night events; I want to know where I went wrong... Why she turned me away, even though all I wanted was to save her...

...

She was wearing her business suite. It was a tight, stiff little thing, and it needed to be taken off. Besides, I had a dress for her. I bought it just for her...just like I had planned this night just for her...just for us...

I had set my office in more than the elaborate Christmas-Eve party decore; I lavished the table with rose petals and fancy glass-wear; I cooked(well, microwaved it, anyway) turkey, and a few other Christmas dishes. To flatter her, I even put on a Santa suite- one with those itchy fake beards- and started to role-play when she started to wake up.

...

Hahah...Memories... But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I adjust myself on the wet concrete, the gas fumes making my head spin.

...

When I finally held her in my arms...it was like a dream becoming reality; for so long, I have been watching this gorgeous woman trek through her lonely, boring life- it was like... it was like holding a newborn.

As she stirred in my arms, I could feel her heart beat faster; my dark hair dell into my face, and it was slightly damp with my own sweat; I was nervous. This was, after all, our first date. But the dirty tile was not what she deserved: I placed her in the back room, and laid her in there.

But she needed to wear something a lot nicer. An idea struck me when I went into the front room and took out her dress; I saw the video camera. I returned to the room where she laid, and undressed her carefully, slowly.

My hands trembled- I remember so clearly- and I could just taste her beautiful body as I rolled down her tight pants. I couldn't resist; I ran a hand down into her panties, feeling her private area. A tingling sensation danced up my arm, and I drew away before I became too excited. I removed her shirt, then peeled away her bra, as if smoothing away a blemish- then savored her naked breasts with a heady desire.

But I gently slipped the thin dress over her body, guiding her submissive body with my hands as the light fabric glided down her tender flesh.

The dress on, I picked up the video camera and made a short documentary of my love for her, and how beautiful she really was- in case she had lost her self-esteem after being "kip-napped." While filming, I put lipstick on her pale, gentle lips. No...not gentle. They were always tight- tense with stress. Yet she always knew when to smile in the face of danger... I continued to point out her body parts and move my hands across her still form, explaining to the camera that she was truly a prize.

...

Even now...she looks like a goddess- even when she's mad...even when she's a little crazy...

...

Afterwards, she was floated to the table in my arms once more, where I set her into a chair. Apologizing to her, I placed a shackle around her right leg, then wrapped the chains on the leg of the table, finishing it off with a large lock.

It was then I put on the Santa suite. But when she opened her bruised eyes for the first time, her lids fluttered and her head dropped against the table.

Alarmed, I tore off the damn beard- it became a_ damn _beard as soon as I realized my mistake: I was pushing my luck- and I went to her side, pushing her hair from her face. "Are you all right?" I asked, trying to meet her unfocused eyes.

I told her it was okay, I told her she was all-right- I even apologized about the suite, telling her it was just a joke- yet she took no comfort in my words; she threw herself from the chair and fumbled across the floor- the chain on her foot keeping her back. Right there on her knees, she threw up.

I calmed her down with my words, and eased her back into her chair, stroking her face like one calms a horse. But she isn't a horse- and she most definitely is_ not _a slut.

Rocky, from his "lay-down!" position in the floor, watched Angela quietly, patiently waiting my orders.

Paper-towels were used to clean up her vomit; it wasn't too hard. Once cleaned up, I offered her some water. She still seemed dazed.

During our short, semi-conversational dinner- of which neither of us ate- Angela would say next to nothing, only questioning what my intentions were, and how nice everything was. Above all, she only wanted to see her family.

So I let her call them, and I let her lie about her whereabouts.

While she talked with her family, I was touching her neck, squeezing lightly to ensure her that I didn't want her to tell the truth. When she got her story straight, I began to reward her by touching her hair. I smelled her hair..

...

Her hair... it smells like honey...it tastes like blood and raisins...

...

Once her family was out of the issue, I figured she would at least take a bite of her turkey. But she didn't. She didn't even acknowledge me when I introduced and poured the wine.

I told her a little bit about my past. I, in turn, asked about hers. But she only said that she had a boyfriend, who had a Toyota, and would be here shortly.

When I played the act and looked outside the office, into the parking garage, I could feel my temper rising.

...

I have always had a short temper...especially with women. I get violent, and I take actions which I later hate myself for doing. But with Angela...things are different.

Now..? I don't feel angry anymore...

...

When I found out she was lying, I told her how I really felt: I thanked her, and told her she had given me the best Christmas present ever...and it was true.

But now was my turn.

I got her present and gave it to her. It took a little encouragement, but she soon got the idea. When she lifted the box and saw the video tape, I joked around, asking if she was curious. When I played the video, my anger returned.

We watched a man by the name of Jim try and rape Angela in the elevator. That moment in her life- I had seen very similar ones happen to other womens lives. But Angela was different; she was innocent, God-damn-it! She doesnt deserve that in her life!

I beat my fist into the screen and fucked him, damned him to hell. When I couldn't take it anymore, I turned it off and turned to my love. By the look on her face, I judged she was just as upset as me.

It was time for a drive.

...

Cars are such funny things..they can do so much for you; take you from point A to point B- such as, from an office building to a Christmas-Eve party; they can move by your will; and they can save your life is you mess them up. But...cars can also betray you.

...

Angela, in the passenger seat, had asked where we were going. I put her in handcuffs, so she naturally felt lost since she no longer had the full ability of her hands. Regardless, I didn't tell her where we were headed.

We drove together down, down, down...until we reached the destination.

The headlights glowed ahead of us as we neared the back-wall of P5, shining in all their glory to reveal Satan.

_Behold! _

Beside me, Angela gave a noise of fright, and hunkered down into the leather seat.

Ahead of me, my eyes piercing into his, a man by the name of Jim gave a muted scream beneath the duck-tape on his mouth, his body thrashing against the tight ropes which held him to the wheeling chair.

I looked at Angela. She knew what I was up to, yet I gave her the task, handing her the flashlight from my hip. I told her it was time to stand up for herself.

But all she could do was shake her head and beg for me not to. Beg...Beg...

She kept saying my name, calling it out with so much desperation- so much _fear_ for that other man's life- that every cry felt like stones striking my heart. It hurt like hell. I wanted her to call my name out of love for me...call it through the darkness as we make love...call it through the morning as our children run through the house...call it when she needs me- like she had back then.

She was trying to humanize me, as if I didn't have feelings. As if I didn't realize how much pain Angela was in for seeing Jim like this. But it just wasn't right. He deserved it.

So I explained to her three things: 1, that she needed to stop calling out my name; I was human, too.

2, that Jim had tried to rape so many others, and he had to right to touch her.

And 3...

3 is that she didn't deserve the guilt and pain that would come from killing another man.

Shaking my head, I got out of the car, though she told me not to. I took off my jacket and folded it onto of the car.

I walked towards Jim, patronize Jim, asking if he liked touching girls- if he had the _right_ to do so.

Jim could only moan and shake or nod his head.

I kept pointing back at the car- back to my love- empathizing my reasons for being hostile towards the man.

I smirked and raised the flashlight high, telling him how I really thought of him; actions speak louder than words.

"_Nooooo_!" Angela...screamed...

Her voice was so full of pain. So full of sadness for _him_- that rapist. But when i looked at her, she looked horrified. Perhapse she really did want him to die. Perhapse she did understand, but was afraid to watch...

I asked her what was wrong- or something similar- throwing my hands around. My anger was rising again...But she kept pleading with me...she told me I was a good person... I started to back off.

But how could I let a man like that live- after he-

I didn't even have to finish my thought; I beat the living hell out of Jim.

From the car, I could hear her telling me to stop.

I raised my flashlight one last time, the blood from his tormented face sticking to my clothes and dripping from the slick surface of the flashlight. But I didn't strike. I took a deep breath, feeling revived after killing the demon. I called him an ass hole before turning back to my love. I took my jacket from the roof and got into the car.

I started to back away, but Angela said, "We cant just leave him there!"

She was right.

So I made the first strike: I drove my car into Jim until his organs fell out onto the floor and slapped against the wall; blood and brains burst into a spray of red, gluing itself to the windsheild and the parking lot. Backing the car away, red fuzzy tire-tracks appeared.

At every hit I made, Angela had screamed. I kept glancing at her with a grin on my face; I was amused by her constant tears over this sinful man. In time, I believed she would realize what I had done for her.

It was when the blood hit the windshiled that Angela escaped the car and ran.

Since that, I had hunted her. I watched her in an elevator, and was forced to set a running hose on the roof to drown her out; she had refused to leave, so I gave her no choice; drown, or come to me. I even through the body of some policeman named Karl into the elevator. Before this, I let her think she was talking to the police through the inter-com. But it was me, and when I told her i was doing it just so we could talk, she threw a fit. Eventually, she opened the doors and was flooded out into the hallway.

I had been waiting for this. But as soon as she was free again, she was out of my control.

I found her later in the office, where I had my latest video playing just for her. She was seemingly transfixed as she watched herself be touched and spoken sweetly about by me. When she couldn't take it anymore, she destroyed the Tv with the axe.

It was then I seized her and tazed her lovely body, which fell into my arms like satin ribbons; limp and painlessly.

After a few rounds, I discovered the policecar.

I hid my love in the back of the same car I used against Jim.

As for the policemen, it didn't take very long to get rid of them.

I gave them the tour. After about ten minutes, they were satisfied about nothing being wrong, and I met them at the gate to close it behind them.

As they left, I called Rocky to me, and the dog and I watched in anticipation as Angela ran over, slowing as she spotted us.

...

It stills amazes me to this very second; how on earth was she able to escape the trunk of the car...? She is more clever than I could ever imagine. I would have been proud to call her my wife.

...

I gave her a small smile, daring her to run.

Beside me, Rocky was tight against the leash, barking.

But as much as I wanted to let the dog go, I wanted more for her to give it up, and come to me.

She took the other option, and ran. Allowing her a 3-second head start, admiring her speed, I released Rocky.

But I never knew what would happen next.

...

I said earlier that I didn't feel angry anymore...

What I feel now...? Sadness...Betrayal...A _painful _betrayal.

...

The next time I saw Rocky, he was dead in the back of a car.

Rocky... I had him since he was a puppy. He was my best friend; he was the only one who listened to me. When I brought him along the security guard, he fit right in. He loved the chase- most importantly, the kill.

His death was like the death of half of my soul; I was no longer complete. I felt empty and alone. But above all, I was wounded that my love felt such hate against me that she would do something so unthinkable...

I slashed the tires of the cars around me, forcing Angela to come out of hiding. But she escaped me.

The next time I saw Angela, she came from behind me and sprayed my eyes with something toxic.

The next time I would see her clearly, I would be staring into her wide eyes from one car to another; I crashed into her just before the car she stole crashed through the gate. But such a crash would probably kill her, and no next to nothing to the gate.

In hitting her, I saved her.

We played a game of cat-and-mouse, skipping our cars around the lot.

Then we sat on either ends of the lot, facing each other seemingly miles apart.

I would cross that distance in a heartbeat to be with her.

I roared my car at her, testing her reaction. She did not back away; she waited. I roared my engine again, then shot forward. A hot thrill burned in my chest when my love began to soar forward at high-speed.

She...wanted... to _die_... with me.

I felt a twisted grin smear on my face- Yes, my dear. We will die together!- I saw the complete look of trust in her face. But mixed with trust, was anxioty.

Sensing her fear, I realized I didn't want her to die; in a sudden jerk, I moved the car away from my love, nearly crashing into a pillar.

I think I heard her cry out in a cheer, but maybe i was hearing things. I turned and followed her, squealing the tires.

...

Through-out our quiet, awkward dinner, and even our little car ride, Angela had given me quick, small smiles: None of them were true.

But as her car tore away from mine, I knew she must be smiling.

...

When I rounded the corner, I saw Angela's car had been flipped and wrecked; the loud, horrible screams of metal confirmed it enough.

Let me try and describe the pain that churned within my heart; the cold heaviness that entered my soul...It was like dying, I suppose. As if my really reason to live had been turned into a piece of paper, and was slowly being torn in two.

I don't want her to die...

I threw myself out of the car and raced to hers, jerking open the door.

I touched her face, her head, her skin.

"Angela? Angela, are you okay?"

Her chest was still, and I couldn't hear anything but the faint dripping of something warm. I leaned forward, my ear near her lips, checking for her breathing.

In the next moment, I was blind in right eye; a flash of white, red, then black; I could not see, and the pain in my head is only comparable to that of a tumor that has been lit on fire. I screamed and clinched my wound as Angela rose from the dead, kicking me out of the car. She took my taser.

She jumped out and handcuffed me to the car, then walked away slowly.

Watching her, I begged her why, and jerked my hand against the cuff. I could feel my face twisting in agony at the pain I tried so hard to endure.

And Angela was frowning.

I have reached the present.

...

Angela, my love...

Smile, for me, one last time...?

It's hard for me to love you when I'm in this much pain...I hope you understand.

But I watch, my eyes contracting, as she brings the taser to the pool of liquid, her lovely body squatting down to the surface.

I beg her not to, I ask her, 'why?' but she has that cold, distant look in her eyes...

I struggle against the handcuffs, against the sharp, twitching pain in my brain from my damaged eye. I hear a voice screaming out to her. I think it is me.

She speaks, but I in my panick, I cannot understand her: I am too busy trying to understand what is happening to me.

She lights the liquid on fire, and the fire is coming towards me like a hungry beast from Hell.

Angela..I just want to save you...So why are you damning me to hell...?

The fire is inches away, and I am screaming in pain.

But I still love you.

...


End file.
